Dreams at Cormallen
by Nivina
Summary: Set shortly before Frodo awakes at the Field of Cormallen. WARNING: Possible ROTK spoilers and some disturbing thoughts.


**Dreams at Cormallen**  
  
  
  
_"Hush now..."_  
  
A far away voice reached his ears, but he didn't know that this voice was addressing him. He fought for breath, his hands clutching in the air, searching for support. Oh no, not again - not again this endless falling into depths he didn't know. Only the blackness, sometimes lit up by fire, the Eye searching for him, restlessly, neverending, piercing his soul.  
  
He lay there, bare and naked. And all that was once good and pure in him was erased. He didn't even know the feeling of being calm anymore. Feelings... they seemed to have been reduced to a minimum of pain and horror. Pain in his hand, in his neck, his back. His soul.  
  
_I don't want to wake. Not here... let me sleep. Let me fall... let me sink into release._  
  
The voice was speaking again. Water covered his lips, trickles running down his throat, tickling him, irritating him. He swallowed automatically, wishing it wouldn't hurt that much. It burned, his throat felt sore and he choked. And again some fluid, slightly different, thicker and with a sharp taste. Tears stung his eyes. But he was too weak to open them. He didn't even know if he was dreaming, or - more horrifying - if this was real.  
  
_"Sleep..."_  
  
He recognized the voice. It must be a dream.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The wounded hobbit relaxed in the sheets and sighed, caught in feverish dreams. Aragorn looked down at him, not sure if Frodo would survive his wounds and if he could endure the terror he must have seen. It must have been beyond every imagination, and Aragorn hoped that Frodo would live to tell everything. That Frodo would live to be himself again and to return to the Shire, to his friends and family.  
  
The king wiped away a tear. The other three hobbits slowly recovered, but Frodo was caught most of all in illness and pain. Aragorn was sure that Frodo's sufferings were not only physical. Aragorn doubted his own strength and his healing skills.  
  
"You fear that he will leave us, don't you? You fear that his wounds will never heal."  
  
Gandalf's voice, a sound soft like rustling leaves, in the background. The wizard approached slowly and sat down next to Aragorn, frowning his forehead a little.  
  
"What did you think?" Aragorn hissed sharply. "What do you see when you look at him? I'm failing, Gandalf." He sighed.  
  
Gandalf didn't say anything for a very long time. The silence in the room became endless, only ragged breaths from Frodo - suddenly the hobbit gave a little, tortured cry. Aragorn whispered soothing words into Frodo's ear. Then he put a wet athelas cloth to the hobbit's forehead and turned to Gandalf again.  
  
"I see endurance beyond hope." Gandalf answered to Aragorn's unspoken question.  
  
Aragorn bowed his head. "There's nothing more I could wish for... At least hope can never be destroyed. Not while he is still alive."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Frodo's hands reached out searchingly.  
  
_Sam..._ he thought. _Sam... he isn't here. I'm all alone and doomed to die. Everything is darkness now, all is vanished. I failed, I failed...failed..._failed. The word echoed in his mind over and over again.  
He couldn't find Sam. He cried the name of his best friend, soundlessly, not hoping for an answer. Frodo wanted to enlighten the darkness around him, but he still couldn't open his eyes.  
  
_"It burns us, precious..."_  
  
Sam might have been gone, but Sméagol's voice was still there, always there.  
  
_I'm like you, Sméagol,_ Frodo thought. _Madness and desire. For the Ring. The Precious. I'm like you.  
Don't want to see the sun anymore. Never be able to see the sun anymore.  
It hurts, it burns. I'm like you, but who am_ I_?_  
  
All he remembered was whirling madness, torture and desire. Desire that he wore around his neck, desire that itched and pained him, desire that had overwhelmed him. Desire that was now gone. And he was gone now, too. Caught in between darkness, twisting with his gloomy thoughts for eternity. He didn't even remember his name.  
  
He cried out.  
  
~~~~~  
  
_"I will crawl."_  
  
Aragorn raised his head. The hours had passed achingly slowly, hours between day and night and full of shadows. The king had fallen into a light sleep, always aware of every slight movement or noise Frodo made. But now something had changed, he had heard the cracked whisper, lighter than the wind, but definitely there. Frodo hadn't spoken a word since he was rescued.  
  
"I will crawl."  
  
This whisper, again. Aragorn knelt at Frodo's side. Frodo stirred, his face a grimace of great effort and pain.  
  
"I must..."  
  
Aragorn tried to soothe the hobbit with calming whispers, and he put his hand to Frodo's forehead. Frodo relaxed soon, but didn't speak again.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Dust and ashes. Ashes and heat. Scratches all over his body and blood flowing into his eyes. And this constant feeling of - what was it exactly? Thirst? Weariness? - had become so common that he nearly welcomed it. It belonged to this symphony of despair, hopelessness and pain---  
  
_"Frodo..."_  
  
Pain. The essence of it all. He did welcome it, a remaining memory of the one he once must have been. _Frodo... _Once Frodo Baggins of Bag End - yes, he suddenly remembered - but that creature had vanished. Frodo Baggins had failed. _Frodo Baggins was no more. _ All that was left were _dust and ashes,_ whirling around eternally in blazing fire.  
  
_"...will recover..."_   
  
If only these voices would disappear. If only _he_ could disappear and escape the pain and anguish forever. He tried to clutch the chain that had cut into his neck, fingers searching for the thing he knew was forever lost.   
  
But not in his imagination. Always shining bright, always there, forever there. Frodo gave in, finally, and let himself sink into the golden brightness that was his own forever. _ They cannot take that from me..._ With that thought Frodo gave himself to the treacherous brightness willingly.   
  
_Forgive me, Sam. I never meant to hurt you like I did. Forgive me..._   
  
And then he slept, deeply this time, and there was neither darkness nor brightness.   
  
~~~~~  
  
"Frodo will not die, Gandalf." Aragorn said two days later when he was alone with the wizard. "He slept the whole night without raving and fighting. And his fever is nearly gone. I guess he will wake soon."  
  
"And Sam, too." Gandalf answered. "They are tough, I told you. But this time I wasn't sure either. And I'm not sure how deeply wounded they really are - all four hobbits. Only time will tell."  
  
"I see." Aragorn crossed the room restlessly, pacing up and down, over and over again.   
  
"All things have changed. And nobody remained the same. I wonder if the price that we all had to pay was too high for some of us, Gandalf. Frodo and Sam must have seen the utmost terror imaginable. I hope they will be able to tell us everything, and I still doubt to be able to heal their inner wounds. For they are there for sure."  
  
After a while, Aragorn turned to go, and Gandalf sat down to stay with the ill hobbits.   
  
He sighed. He had pitied his dear little friends day by day and had asked himself if it had been a mistake to let Frodo carry the Ring. But who else would have done it? Who else _ could _ have done it?   
  
The wizard looked at the green leaves rustling in the warm spring air and sighed. His time in Middle-earth was about to end soon, and one day he would leave these shores forever. He would feel easier about it if he could know that his dearest friends were whole and healed.   
  
He sat down and watched Frodo and Sam who were still sleeping. Sam's face was peaceful and his cheeks were reddened. Frodo looked very pale and worn out, but he was clearly on the mend.  
  
Gandalf's thoughts wandered. He remembered the easy days in the Shire and hoped that Frodo and Sam could be as carefree again as they had been once. He wished for it more than everything, though doubts rose in him; and while he watched the sleeping halflings he saw that Frodo was surrounded by a light that shone from deep within him, stronger than before, and more unearthly somehow.   
  
~~~~~  
  
Brightness blinded him, but this time it was neither frightening nor disturbing. The itching pain had reduced to the centre of his hand, but it didn't tug at his soul as it had done for so long. The terror had dissolved and had fallen into pieces.   
  
Frodo felt the spring sun on his face, and he felt warm and sheltered. He still couldn't remember all the things that had happened, and his first thought went out to the Ring. His left hand felt for the chain instinctively only to find bandages there.   
  
He tried to open his eyes, and this time he was able to do so. Colours of gold and green blurred his sight, they were so intense that they hurt for an instance, and then turned into a lovely sight Frodo never had dared to wish to see again. And then...  
  
"Gandalf...?" Unbelief and excitement were audible in Frodo's hoarse whisper. "Wh..." His voice broke.  
  
_I must have died finally---_  
  
The thought rushed through Frodo, but Gandalf laughed merrily, a sound Frodo had not heard in quite a while.   
  
"Frodo, my dear hobbit! I'm as real as you are." And with that Gandalf took the weak hobbit carefully into his arms. Frodo sighed with relief, and he began to understand that they must have been saved.   
  
But how? When? Thousands of questions whirled through his head, and then he asked weakly:   
  
"Sam, Gandalf. Where is Sam?"  
  
"Look aside, Frodo."  
  
Slowly Frodo turned his head and saw his dear friend sleeping deeply. A sob escaped him, and he felt tears of relief running down his cheeks. Gandalf tucked Frodo back into the sheets and gave him some water. Frodo drank it gratefully.   
  
"Will he live?"   
  
"Oh yes, he will. We were far more worried about you. You were closer to death than to life for quite a long time."  
  
Frodo looked at his maimed hand, covered in bandages.   
  
"I look terrible," he sighed. "But I feel so much better... more at ease. May I leave the bed?"   
  
"Hush, Frodo. You should sleep for some more hours."  
  
The hobbit yawned and stretched, suddenly aware of his weariness again.   
  
"All right. But then you have to answer all my questions. And I have a lot. But for now I'm glad to know that Sam has survived this terror."  
  
Frodo stiffened suddenly.   
  
"Merry? Pippin?" he gasped. "Are they... alive?"   
  
"There is no need to worry about them. They are fine. Don't worry."  
  
Frodo relaxed again and laid his hand into Gandalf's. Then his eyes fell shut, and he drifted off to sleep once more.  
  
  
**END**   
  



End file.
